


Run Diagnostic

by whalebone



Series: Radio Heart [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Holding Hands, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Cassian Andor, Pining, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22316770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalebone/pseuds/whalebone
Summary: Maybe, just this once, Cassian might let himself have something good.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/K-2SO
Series: Radio Heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554049
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53
Collections: Unofficial FFA Unanon Collection





	Run Diagnostic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a 'holding hands' prompt at FFA.

“Cassian.”

Cassian scrubbed his sleeve over his face, as though that would somehow disguise the fact that he’d been crying. K-2SO could tell his moods from the minute shifts in his face; he certainly wouldn’t be fooled by hastily-dried tears. 

“What?” His voice was rough. From the smoke, obviously. 

K-2 ducked out of the cockpit and into the living area. He surveyed Cassian for a moment, clearly cataloguing his current state, and then knelt down in front of him. Cassian tilted his head to the side in an attempt to avoid the droid's gaze.

"You are upset."

He gritted his teeth. "Yes, Kay, thank you."

"That is unnecessary. You fulfilled the mission objective. We have the intel." K-2's optical lenses clicked as he focused. "You are not injured."

"No." He took in a deep, shaky breath, and tried to push the memory away. The momentary fear on his contact's face, before Cassian had pulled the trigger. 

His hands shook. He had escaped unscathed, not because he deserved to, but because K-2 had pulled him out. The droid's chest plate was scorched from a blaster shot. 

"Are you damaged?" He focused on that. Reached out and ran his fingers over the marks on K-2's plating. There was a slight dent where the bolt had hit him.

"No. Just dents. I would have told you if it was worse."

He would have whined and complained constantly, more like. Despite the bubbling guilt, Cassian felt a warm rise of relief. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

"Of course. If you could see your way towards not walking into a trap next time, I would be grateful."

Cassian snorted. "I'll try."

"Hm." K-2 sounded disbelieving. But before Cassian could protest further, he did something he had never done before: lifted his hand, and touched Cassian's face, as though tracing the tear tracks. 

Cassian's heart was suddenly beating very fast. It took all of his considerable self-control not to lean into the light touch. Kay's fingertips were cool, and surprisingly gentle.

"I'm sorry," the droid said. "I did not accurately calculate the possibility of attack. I should have realised the likelihood that Jerven was compromised."

"It's not your fault. You didn't have all the data."

Kay made a faintly disgusted noise. "I should have. That is my job. I know you feel guilty about shooting Jerven, Cassian, but you should not have had to." His processors were whirring, his vocabulator taking on a slightly distressed tone. "There was a seventy-eight percent chance that he would have killed you."

"He didn't." Cassian's stomach twisted. "You got me out." Without thinking, he grabbed Kay's hand and squeezed his metal palm. "Like you said, we completed the mission. That was our primary objective."

"It was _your_ primary objective." It was impossible to tell, what with his immobile faceplate, but Cassian thought K-2 was watching him more intently than usual. His long fingers slowly closed around Cassian's palm, and his heart seemed to catch. He’d thought about this, or something like this, so many times, no matter how much he told himself it was impossible. "It isn't mine."

K-2 dropped their joined hands from Cassian’s face to rest on his leg. Cassian stared at them; his hand looked so small and breakable, wrapped in K-2’s grip. Slim bones and tendons, fragile blood vessels, all of which could be crushed into dust by K-2’s durasteel fingers. Instead, the droid’s thumb swept very gently over Cassian’s knuckles, and his throat seemed to tie itself in a knot.

“Cassian.” K-2’s vocabulator had a strange little buzz to it. “This is not within your usual behaviour parameters. You have not allowed an organic to do this for 3.75 years.”

Well, of course not. Even if there was an organic who wanted to… _hold his hand_ , there was no one who Cassian would let that close. He had sometimes wondered if all his pointless, tangled longing for K-2 was just another defense mechanism. That maybe it was easier, to want this with someone who had no capacity for wanting the same.

Except K-2’s thumb was still stroking the ridges of his knuckles, and his fans were running much harder than they should have been. Cassian swallowed past the ache in his throat. 

“No,” he agreed. “I’ve not.” He took a deep breath, then turned his hand in K-2’s grip and slotted their fingers together. K-2’s hand almost swallowed his, his grip firm and sure. “You’re not an organic.”

K-2 looked from their joined hands and back to Cassian’s face. “You do not mind.”

He should mind. He’d argued with himself so often about this very thing, even when it seemed inconceivable. How could he know that this was what K-2 wanted, what he _really_ wanted? 

But what harm could there be, in a small moment of comfort? Maybe, just this once, Cassian could just… let it happen. K-2 squeezed his hand, the hard edge of his palm digging into Cassian’s wrist. Cassian squeezed back. 

“No,” he agreed. “I don’t mind.”


End file.
